


the ruins are where we bury our dead

by 875857



Series: gate ; [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 04:10:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5651950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/875857/pseuds/875857
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Have you,” Wells wonders how to phrase ‘<i>told anyone you were in love with the man that murdered your mother/wanted to kill you/stalked you for fifteen years and basically made you who you are</i>’ in a polite way, “...talked to anyone about this?”</p><p>[the AU where Wells figures out Barry was in love with Harrison/Eobard.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	the ruins are where we bury our dead

Harrison Wells loves only two things in this world;

Progress, and his daughter.

The problem with that statement is that in _this_ world, he has no daughter. To add to that, the Harrison Wells in this world has also been dead for some fifteen years, with a delusional psychopath parading around in his skin, so not much progress was made there. And in the wake of Eobard Thawne, he left behind a nearly destroyed group of people who had trusted the man with everything, which has made working with them (or using them, the distinction continues to change indefinitely) a most difficult venture.

To be fair, it isn't a far off leap from where he was back on his earth. He was a strict enough CEO where most interactions ended abruptly, and with him commanding a tense atmosphere. The looks that this group give him are a lot like that - the constant eyes flickering to him, the hushed conversations when he nears, their white knuckled grips. The people on his earth had always regarded him with respect and admiration, some with loathing and many with fear; but the people in this multiverse, the ones he is working with to save his daughter…

He senses their fear. Their sadness. Their bitterness. He sees the way Cisco almost flinches every time Harrison takes a step near him, the way that Dr. Snow still has a tremble in her voice after they have an involved scientific conversation, as if she accidentally let herself get caught up in it.  
  
As if he were actually her old boss, before any of this actually happened and everything was fine. He knows that Joe West’s hand twitches towards his gun every time he speaks, and that it’s only years of self discipline, a rigid set of morals, and belief in his adopted son that stop the man’s fatherly instinct from blowing a hole in Harrison’s heart.

One of the more ridiculous aspects of it all are his interactions with the Flash. Or Barry Allen, on this earth. Barry is a lot like Jay, but different in so many ways. They both come from scientific backgrounds, but Harrison believes that there’s something in Barry, a hidden potential that could flourish, if given the proper training. Maybe that’s what Eobard Thawne saw in Barry, too.

The limits that Barry has don't really feel like barriers, they feel like track hurdles. And Harrison has seen Barry fall, has seen him crash to the ground and break his bones, has seen him _bleed_ \- but Barry meets every challenge, rises to every occasion. So if anyone can help him save his daughter, he still believes Barry Allen and his friends are the ones that can do it.

S.T.A.R. Labs is empty except for him, Dr. Snow and Cisco are off to somewhere, keeping secrets from him. He’s sure that whatever they're doing, they definitely don't want him to know about and that he’ll definitely figure it out given more time. Barry doesn't exactly enter the labs subtly, a gust of wind ruffling Harrison’s hair and knocking some papers off the desk he’s using. He covers up a sigh, because Barry does this all the time. One would think he’d realize people got tired of picking papers he blew around.

“At some point, you'd think the criminal underworld would take a hint and realize that it's just not in their best interest to open up shop in Central City. That’s the third arrest this week!”

Harrison can hear the smile in Barry’s tone. When did they get to friendly terms? The idea of genuine camaraderie is a foreign concept to him, to think of these people here as anything more than allies, partners vying for a common cause. The entire notion of it almost makes him snort, if Harrison Wells were ever the type of man to do that.

“I know he was your hero, but I'm not him. You don't have to come to me for praise every time you accomplish something,” Harrison says offhandedly, a wry almost-smirk playing at his lips, but he regrets the words the second they leave his mouth. It was maybe meant to be a joke in return, perhaps a playful jab if someone watching wanted to stretch it. He takes his eyes away from the piece of machinery in front of him to glance at Barry, and maybe looking at him was more of a mistake than just saying it. Barry's face is so damn _expressive,_ red lips parted and eyebrows arched high. It's as if Harrison has slapped him, as if he’s feeling actual physical pain. For a moment, he wonders if Barry will take a step back or retaliate aggressively.

Gone is the previous jovial mood of successful heroics, and in its place, this suffocating blanket of sobriety.

Harrison racks his brain for something to say in the next few milliseconds, but Barry beats him to it. The winded expression passes in a flash, _ha_ , and Barry is taking a deep breath. Barry squares his shoulders, lips pursing.

“I,” Barry starts, stops, the straightened stance falters as he doubts himself and again, Harrison sees the wrecked man behind the hero, “I know. I know you aren't.”

Barry swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing as he looks down. Harrison says nothing. Harrison Wells almost feels pity for Barry Allen, a man who wears his heart on his sleeve, and the hopes of everyone in a symbol on his chest. He notices, then, that Barry furtively licks his lips, teeth grazing on his lower lip. It’s an anxious gesture, one that Harrison initially registers as frustrated disappointment.

Barry lets his eyes slide to Harrison’s and meets his gaze, Harrison catalogs the downward tilt of of Barry’s eyes. He expects to see some of that angered betrayal and mistrust he sees so often in Cisco, but it’s not. It's _different_.

“I’ll be at the station, if you need anything.”

Barry disappears in another streak, more of Harrison’s papers being blown to the ground.

And this is when he realizes that Barry Allen was in love with him.

 

* * *

  


Obviously not in love with _him_ , Harrison Wells, but Eobard Thawne, the man who had pretended to be him for fifteen years. Looking back on it, Harrison had inklings about it. It's not like Barry has ever been subtle about how he felt - who the hell knows how he’s kept the circle of people that know he's the Flash so small. He figured out Barry’s feelings for Joe’s daughter almost immediately after seeing them in a room together. He had pieced together that Barry had a hero-worship for his mentor, one that had been ripped to shreds during the whole situation with the Reverse-Flash, but _love_?

Maybe he was overthinking it. He could be reading into it too much, assuming that Barry’s betrayal did stem from love, but it could be more of a paternal love?

But falling in love with the man who saved him from a coma, pushed him to excel and reach limits that he’d never thought possible… it sounded very much like something Barry Allen would do. However short his time in this universe, Harrison had already noted Barry’s traits and how best to utilize them. Something he’d mentally recorded was Barry’s tendency to love with his entire heart, to trust and open up to people while believing in the best in everyone.

Idealistic. Unreasonable. Idiotic.

Utterly _astonishing_ that he was still alive, considering the beating he'd gotten from Zoom only a few weeks ago. Harrison almost laughs for the first time in this universe, because when did he go from barely tolerating Barry’s presence to silently praising him?

It was definitely a surprise, to say the least, having Barry Allen showing up at the lab alone again a few days later. Harrison had hoped he’d learned his lesson. Barry Allen is determined to make bad decisions. Harrison wonders if it’s masochistic tendencies or something deeper that keeps driving Barry back to Harrison.

“About what you said a few days ago…” Barry starts, and Harrison continues to write notes on what he’s working on.

“I meant it, I know you're not him.” Barry says again, more assured in his words. Harrison’s reply is flat.

“Really.”

If he were to look at Barry, he knows he’d probably see the other tuck his hands into his pockets, shift side to side on the balls of his feet.

“It’s just hard, you look exactly the same, and sometimes you say things that sound like what he would say, the way that you carry yourself - “

Harrison lays down the pen and presses his hand to his forehead. He thinks he’s been patient enough, he went through all their testing and all their questions, interrogations - hell, he was even _shot_  because of things this other Harrison Wells did.

He’s had _enough_ of this.

“I know. I look exactly like him and it hurts you because of multiple reasons, including the fact that you were in love with him, _I know_ ,” Harrison says, looking Barry in the face as he says this and wishing he could find some sort of pleasure in the wide eyed horror he sees bloom on Barry’s face, “But I am not him. I will never be him. That man is dead, and I am _not_ here to destroy your life or you. I am here to stop Zoom. That’s _it_.”

Harrison leans forward as he talks, looking up at Barry over the rim of his glasses. Barry looks like his mind stopped processing things after Harrison mentioned love, so he considers the conversation over and swivels back to the desk.

He continues writing where he left off, and expects Barry to run off like he did the first time. Barry does not run, he does not try to defend himself or deny it, in fact he says something that Harrison Wells never saw coming.

“Can I kiss you?”

The words come out too fast, in a rushed mess, so jumbled that Harrison almost doesn't process it. His hand stops where it was in the middle of taking down a note, pen scratching hilariously against the paper.

“Excuse me, Mr. Allen?”

“I just, I can't explain it. Please.”

The firmest ‘ _no_ ’ teeters on Harrison’s tongue, almost out of his mouth. Harrison wonders if Barry will fall back, claim it was all some terrible joke. However, Barry already has himself primed for rejection, Harrison can see it in the set of his shoulders, the determined clench of his jaw.

This is absolutely ridiculous. He has so much work he needs to get done. There are still tests results he needs to examine. He can't just waste time bending to the frivolous needs of a speedster who has feelings for the impostor who tried to kill him.

But…

Barry Allen got his back broken, nearly died, and hasn't given up his heroics. Barry Allen has seen his version of hell more than once and will supposedly see it again. From the minute Harrison stepped into back Barry’s life, Barry has been on the verge of tears and is even more of a fool he if thinks Harrison has not noticed. Barry Allen is naive, reckless, stupid, and _good_ \- and Harrison Wells has never been occupied with simplistic concepts like good vs. evil, and is probably one of the furthest things from good, so that's laughable. But Barry Allen is the man who has offered his aid in saving his daughter.

And maybe it's none of those reasons or it’s all of them at once, but Harrison exhales a long, drawn out sigh, and swivels the chair to face Barry. He sits there, expectant, and after a moment Barry registers this as agreement with a small, surprised ‘ _oh_!’.

Barry approaches him, taller while standing but still looking small, timid, and young. Harrison almost wants to turn away, to rescind his offer, but Barry is stepping forward. Harrison is not the one approaching, but he still feels like the predator. Maybe it’s something about Barry’s wide, trusting eyes that just make him feel like the big, bad wolf.

Harrison barely has to do anything. Barry does all the work, tilting his head to the side and down so that their lips press. Harrison's hands stay firmly in his lap, but Barry’s move forward to wrap themselves in the fabric of his sweater. Harrison can tell they itch to curl into his hair, but Barry exerts a good level of control.

Barry’s lips are soft, and Harrison wonders how much chapstick Barry goes through to avoid dry lips. Especially with all the running, or even if he ever gets chapped lips because of his regeneration? The state of the Flash’s lips was never something he’d considered until just now. There’s an innocence that makes Harrison almost want to enjoy it, since it's been a long time since he’s enjoyed something this sweet -

\- except Barry is shaking into the kiss, a desperate tremor to the way his hands are curled into his sweater.

He pulls away, Barry’s lower lip dragging slightly between his parted ones. Barry gasps like Harrison is ripping the air out of his lungs.

“This wasn't a good idea,” Harrison says, hands circling Barry’s wrists and gently tugging them off him.

“Wait, I want - “ He starts, and Harrison tightens his grip. Not enough to hurt, but to make a point. Barry’s hands twitch like all he wants is to bury his hands back in Harrison’s sweater and pull him in again.

“You don't know what you want,” Harrison says, harsher than he has to be, because Barry needs to know that he is not the man he looked up to, he is not that man.

“How can you want to kiss the face of the man that killed your mother?”

Barry is wrecked, hands going limp in Harrison’s hold. He lets go of Barry, and the other stands back, looking chastised and utterly destroyed at the same time.

“I don't know,” he confesses, stunned like he can't believe he kissed Harrison. “I really don't know. He was never _just_ the man that killed my mother, he saved me, he helped me do so much good. I forgave him, or, I mean, I'm _trying_ to. It's a process.”

“Have you,” Wells wonders how to phrase ‘ _told anyone you were in love with the man that murdered your mother/wanted to kill you/stalked you for fifteen years and basically made you who you are_ ’ in a polite way, “...talked to anyone about this?”

However much he hopes that Barry’s answer will be yes, he doubts it. He really has no intention of being some kid’s therapist. Lo’ and behold, Barry shakes his head.

“How do you even start talking about something like that?” Barry laughs, but it's high and strung out. Harrison tilts his head, cocks his brow.

“And yet you can talk to me?”

Barry splutters, hand reaching up to knot through his hair. He takes a moment to calm down, Barry’s face is still red from their kiss. He flops down onto the floor a few feet away from Harrison, knees loosely pulled up to his chest. He rests his elbows on his knees, hands dangling loose. He looks a bit better now, maybe more relaxed.

“This helped.”

“Did it?” Harrison arches his brow.

“Yeah. Eobard Thawne hated me too much to ever do that,” Barry says, a small smile on his face. Realistically, Harrison doesn't know if that would be true. From what he’d learned, Thawne showed enough of a possessive obsession over Barry that if a few variables had changed, the nature of their relationship could have drastically altered. Harrison leaves this unsaid, choosing to let Barry believe that.

“If it's any consolation, Barry, I don't care enough about you to hate you.”

Harsh, but true. Harrison has no intention of giving him any false ideas. But then Barry surprises him again by laughing. It's the first time Harrison has heard him laugh, directed towards him and not just overhearing him laugh from another room at something Cisco has said.

Barry smiles, “Thanks, Dr. Wells -  _Harry_ ,” he corrects himself, using the name that Cisco had designated him with.

Harrison finds himself smiling in return, nothing big -- just a slight upward quirk of the corner of his mouth.

“I would say anytime, but really, never again.”

**Author's Note:**

> they totally kiss more later, because _reasons_.


End file.
